


Stoyd Week

by hazelandglasz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Baking, Cute, Daydreaming, Drabble, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Sexual Fantasy, Werewolf Jackson, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:36:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2378471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of seven fic, ficlets and other drabbles to celebrate Stoyd ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1 : Be Happy / Life is short, live it up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 : Be Happy
> 
> For all of his flaws, Stiles has major bonus points in Boyd's book

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon compliant (up to a point, that is)

Sometimes Boyd wishes that he had not smiled back at Stiles Stilinski.

And sometimes Boyd wants to smack his two-days past self for even entertaining the idea of not having Stiles in his life.

Sure, the guy is a pain in the ass, and he makes too many puns, and he is too smart for his own good, and Boyd has stopped counting the number of occasions where he had to pick Stiles up over his shoulder to get him—them, really—away from a potentially life-threatening situation.

Sure.

But Boyd has also stopped counting the number of times Stiles has gotten himself in these situations to defend Boyd’s honor.

More importantly, in his personal opinion, he has stopped counting the many ways Stiles has managed to make Boyd smile back at him ever since that particular lunch.

With the way he sings out of tune one of the two songs that work on Boyd like a warm blanket.

Accidentally they have the same title, but Boyd can’t explain it, there is something in the gentle rhythm that just makes him feel better, forget about his troubles and want to take Stiles in his arms for a long needed (and potentially dirty) cuddle session.

Stiles can’t carry a tune to save his life, but he has a perfect tempo, which makes watching him shake his ass to the sound of his own voice all the more entertaining.

"Here’s a little song I wrote,

You might want to sing it note for note

Don’t worry be happy

In every life we have some trouble

When you worry you make it double …”

Stiles twirls on the ball of his feet, tapping the rhythm and Boyd can hear it changing, morphing somehow in a way only Stiles can manage, and he looks at him, shaking his “thang” while cooking Boyd’s favorite soup (mushrooms and pumpkin with crushed hazelnuts).

"Is it really that bad?

Really that bad

I don’t think it’s really that bad

Come on, get with it!”

Stiles looks over his shoulder to smile at Boyd in a way that reminds him off a puppy smile—the only thing missing is a tongue lolling out of his mouth—and he shakes his shoulders in a shimmy, clearly trying to get his boyfriend to join in his mash-up.

"I don’t sing, Stiles," he says slowly as he stands up to come behind Stiles, rubbing his chin against the side of Stiles’ head, letting the soft hair caressing him.

"And what a shame it is," Stiles retorts, sprinkling some pepper onto the soup and letting the smoke coming from the pot twirl around his fingers.

"I’d rather let you make a massacre of my beloved songs," Boyd adds, leaning over to capture Stiles’ shout of protest, leaving him looking a little bit dizzy.

Well, his boyfriend may look ridiculous with his goofy smile, but at least he has stopped singing—Boyd counts that as a win.


	2. Day 2 : Favorite AU / Zamboni's Bakery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 : Favorite AU  
> Where my love for baking, bakers and baked good is finally revealed ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title inspired by Warran's song, "Cherry Pie" ;)

"Good morning, Stiles, your usual?"

Stiles smiles in relief as the door closes behind him with a twinkle of its bell. "Yes, please--thank you, Erica!"

Yes, Stiles Stilinski is a man of habits. Plural important.

He goes for a run around the block every morning, he goes to the library at the opening hour, he drinks water with a couple of lemon slices and he ends his day with a trip to Zamboni's Bakery, to satisfy two needs with one stone, if you will.

First, there is the obvious one, his actual hunger, because working at the library to work on his thesis about the different ways circumcision is woven into our society (yes it's for his Econ class, why do you ask) builds up quite the appetite, and Zamboni's has probably the best chocolate, raisins and cranberries buns in the whole county.

That and Erica, the bakery's waitress, knows him by now, heating it up just right and serving it up with a mug of hot chocolate that contains a spoonful of coffee--just enough caffeine to give it a kick, not enough to mess with his medication and sleep pattern.

Which is already pretty messed up as it is, and partly _because_ of the bakery.

Well ...

A more accurate statement would be to blame the _baker_ , not his establishment, now wouldn't it?

Because Zamboni's Bakery is the household that it is in the city because of its master baker, who's assets are available for anyone with working eyes through the large glass windows separating the kitchen from the room.

Stiles sighs, sending crumbs of bun flying around him, as he looks at Vernon Boyd making love to a bowl of dough.

There is no other way to describe the way the tall, strong (unf) man is holding the bowl in place with one hand while the other handles a metallic whip, raising his hand every now and then to make the whole dough fluffier.

Since he wants to gain an intimate knowledge of the way Boyd does make love, Stiles has a sudden wave of jealousy against the bowl and against the dough--and against Isaac for learing after "his" man--because he wants to know if the description is accurate.

He wants to know if Boyd's hands would cup his hips, his ass even, with such firm gentleness when he fucks him into the mattress.

If he would show as much patience when pushing his cock into Stiles' body, lazily working him up to make him see stars before getting his own completion.

If he would have the same soft smile on his lips when Stiles draws a map of his body with his mouth and his teeth.

If he--

"Stiles, you're drooling."

Stiles shakes his head to look at Erica, but over her shoulder and golden curls, he can see Boyd not looking at his bowl anymore, but at _hims_.

His dark eyes are not leaving Stiles, not even when the oven beeps and when Erica looks over her shoulder to shoo him away.

"Those buns really are too good for my own sake," Stiles replies to Erica's earlier comment, and he's more than a little bit startled by her sudden giggle.

Girl can giggle loudly, that's for sure.

"What did I say?" he mumbles, taking a sip of his drink to hide his sudden flush.

"Nothing, nothing, hun," Erica says patronizingly as she pets his head, "but correct me if I'm wrong when I say that those buns are not the only one you are interested in?"

Stiles blinks at her before clearing his throat. "Are you--flirting with me?" he asks, unsure of where this is going and wondering how one man is supposed to turn down Erica Reyes without losing a nut in the process.

Erica shakes her head, though, which is a relief. "I don't swing your way, sweet pea," she replies, "and besides, I would have to go against the Muffin Man."

"The Muffin Man?"

"The Muffin Man," Erica confirms, nodding towards the kitchen where Boyd suddenly rushed out of sight.

Stiles can't help himself. "Who lives on Drury Lane?"

Erica laughs and together, they exclaim, "The Muffin Man!", before laughing together.

And then Stiles realizes what she meant. "As in, the Muffin Man wants some of this?"

Erica's smile turns predatory, just as a knock is heard on the glass and Boyd gives her a pointed look. "Not some of this," she says, before gesturing at Stiles, "but all of this."

Stiles looks at Boyd, a beaming smile on his face no doubt, and Boyd returns it, hesitantly and almost shy, it's adorable.

"God, you're not even together yet and you already disgust me," Erica comments before disappearing in the kitchen.

Stiles takes his phone out to check that he doesn't have any crumbs on his face or chocolate 'stache, but before he can clean the trace of chocolate he has at the corner of his lips, a dark thumb comes to wipe it away.

"Uh?"

Boyd takes another swipe at the corner of his lips, lingering maybe a touch too long for it to be entirely innocent, before absentmindedly suck it into his mouth.

Stiles has to force his brain to remember how to work and how to make his lungs breath, because for now, all of his blood has run South of the border. "Hi Boyd."

Well that was brilliant, kudos on that one.

"Hello Stiles," Boyd replies, voice deep, like salted butter caramel. "So you like my buns?"

Before Stiles' mind can produce a far too graphic image of Stiles himself devouring Boyd's "buns", he starts babbling. "They're the best buns in the city, I would eat it all day, every day if I could, honestly Boyd there is magic involved, because that's just not human and--"

"And you haven't tried my French toasts."

Stiles still has his mouth opened and he looks at Boyd with wide eyes. "You--you make French toasts? But i've never seen any on the menu!"

Boyd leans closer, his nose almost brushing Stiles'."That's because it's not on the menu: I only make them at home, Sunday mornings in particular."

"Oh."

"Do you want to try them?"

"I would love to," Stiles replies before that particularly vivid dream can evaporate.

Boyd's beaming smile, though, is brighter than a dream. "It's a date then."

"It's a date," Stiles repeats in a whisper, punching the air when Boyd turns his back to him to return to the kitchen, a not so subtle sway to his hips as he goes.

Oh yeah, he definitely likes those buns, hun.


	3. Day 3 : Favorite Werewolf trope / Corner piece

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Favorite werewolf trope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my case, “We are mates” is definitely my favorite trope related to our furry friends :)
> 
> Title inspired by Mates of State’s “Jigsaw”

Before the bite, Boyd already wanted Stiles' friendship: there was something in Scott whenever he had proofs of the depth of his place in Stiles' heart that made him yearn for it for himself.

But after the bite ...

After the bite it turns into something way more primal, more instinctual.

He doesn't know what he would have done without Derek's guidance, though. The Alpha may be misguided most of the time, but that he knows how to deal with.

"That" being that with his new senses, Boyd feels like sniffing Stiles hair and neck and crotch all the goddamn time, but it's not the worst of it.

Of course, since it's his life, Boyd also wants to rub his own scent all over Stiles, to make him smell like BoydandStiles together --

And that's the thing: he wants to _be_ with Stiles, like it's the only thing that'll ever make sense and the only way for him to be happy.

Before he wanted to have friends, he wanted not to be alone anymore.

Now he feels like he only needs Stiles to be complete.

On top of that, add ridiculous erections whenever Stiles laughs or winks or just _is_ around Boyd and you have a strong Beta ready to lose his mind.

"He's your mate," Derek comments once Boyd lists everything that is wrong in his new judgment of the young Stilinski. "Your wolf's chosen partner, if you will."

"Do you have one?" Boyd asks, his heart slowing down now that he knows that he's not just going through some weird sexual questionning. But the look that goes over Derek's face--he wishes he had just thank his Alpha and shut it.

"I did," Derek simply says and Boyd shuts it. "Now, about your own mate," Derek continues, sadness melting away from his face as he starts smirking at his Beta, red slowly infusing in his eyes. "There is no particular way to win him over--basic, human seduction applies."

Boyd smiles at the thought before his brain catches up. "I have to seduce Stiles Stilinski."

Derek's smirk is complete, and Boyd can hear Erica and Isaac losing it in the next room. So much for privacy.

\---

"Don't you think that Boyd is acting weird?" Stiles asks Scott who is busy looking at Allison with hearteyes.

Even though Stiles has to say that recently--as in, since Lahey joined Derek's pack--Scott seems to be confused where to direct his hearteyes.

"Hm? Boyd? No," Scott replies, stabbing his fork into his tray as he misses the plate entirely.

"Thank you for your input, Scotty," Stiles mumbles, eyes drifting on their own accord back to the Black Beta. There is something weird with the way Boyd is acting, and it has nothing to do with the bite--Stiles would know, he helped Scott through it all.

No, Vernon Boyd seems ... fuck it, he's acting like he can't possibly have enough of Stiles and that in itself should look weird to anybody watching.

He's suddenly everywhere, all the time--library, coffee shop, farmers' market even!--and when Stiles catches him, he just smiles and skips away.

Stiles is about to go to Derek to ask if he did something special to Boyd when he bit him when a mug of coffee from his coffee shop--and from the smell of it, his exact order, complete with the sprinkle of vanilla he always adds--is gently deposited in front of him.

"Here you go," Boyd says as he takes the chair next to Stiles.

"How much do I owe you?" Stiles asks, already reaching for his wallet.

"Nothing, it's--it's on me," Boyd replies and Stiles frowns. The guy didn't want to make him a discount on the ice rink's keys and now, all of a sudden, he gets him expensive coffee drinks?

"What do you want?" he immediately asks, suspecting a demand or a favor, and depends on what it is, but he is not going to risk his life for a cup of co--

"A date."

\--ffee. "What?"

"I want a date."

"Do I look like eHarmony to you?"

"With you."

"With me?"

"With you. Do you need to clean your ears?"

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, blinking at Boyd and seeking help from Scott, but his best friend is no help, munching his fries like he's at the movies and this is the moment he had been waiting for.

Asshole.

Stiles chose his best friend well.

"You want to date me?" he finally asks, turning in his chair to face Boyd, who is unfairly nonchalant as he leans his head against his closed hand.

"Among other things," Boyd replies, lips stretched into a soft, gentle, smile--damn that's attractive--as his fingers tap on the table barely a millimeter from Stiles' hand.

"Oh?"

"Oh."

"Is it something ... furry related?" Stiles asks--he has too--and Boyd's smile turns, well, wolfish.

"After a fashion," Boyd simply replies before standing up. "So, date? You, me, some curly fries and the night sky?"

"You know me all too well," Stiles says, feigning a swoon. Only that makes Boyd chuckle and it's entirely unfair how much Stiles wants to make him do that again and again.

"See you later, Stiles."

_TBC tomorrow (since I don't have any Stoyd stuff waiting on a shelf ^^)_


	4. Hugging stars Backstage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Throw Back Thursday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > I know we were supposed to dust off some old post about Boyd and Stiles, but since I have none, I have decided to continue the [fic](http://hazelandglasz.tumblr.com/post/98894101766/corner-piece) I started yesterday, aka, Stiles is Boyd's mate and he's going to woo him over ^^
>> 
>> Inspired by this post (vaguely)
>> 
>> Title come from the same song as yesterday ;)

Their first date is as awkward as Boyd anticipated, Stiles hesitating between talking and babbling like he always does among friends, and turning hesitant and still babbling because Boyd doubts there is a force on Earth that could keep Stiles from his babbles.

But they do make some progress, Boyd opening to Stiles and Stiles revealing himself to be more than a tight ball of sarcasm.

They don't kiss that night, though Stiles lets his hand linger on Boyd's shoulder when they part ways just a moment too long for it to be completely friendly or innocent, and Boyd spends the journey home with his nose buried in the part of his jacket where Stiles' fingers rubbed his scent in the fabric.

They don't kiss either on their second date at the movies, Stiles paying for the snacks and doing the old trick of yawning-spreading his arms on the back of the seats, and Boyd throws him an incredulous look before chuckling and sliding down the seat to be able to rest the back of his head on Stiles' surprisingly comfortable forearm.

They don't kiss either on their third, fourth and fifth date, and if Boyd has his whole closet Stiles-scented now, he wants ... more.

Oh, he can smell the same want all over Stiles, but since he knows that he's in for the long run, why not take it day to day?

And then, they end up in front of the vending machine at school, Stiles beaming at him as he hooks his arm around Boyd's waist while Boyd places his arm around Stiles' shoulders--perfect placement of each other's limb, really--and they both turn to look at the products.

Stiles starts pouting when he sees that there is no more Peanuts Mars bars, but he bites his lower lip to keep his squeal in when Boyd pulls two out of his pocket.

"You're a life-saver," he moans, tearing the package open and attacking the chocolate bar with gusto--his enthusiasm is not entirely lost on Boyd's libido--,"God, I could kiss you!"

"Ok," Boyd says before he can stop himself and Stiles freezes, one cheek bulging with chewy caramel and peanuts and eyes wide as he looks at Boyd, probably trying to make sure that this actually happened.

He swallows it all and cocks his head to the side, a small, shy, unbelieving smile on his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Boyd replies, feeling his lips stretch into a mirroring smile. Stiles rolls and straightens his shoulders before reaching to cup Boyd's cheek, the tip of his fingers brushing the back of his neck and pulling him forward.

Their first kiss is soft, almost platonic if Boyd didn't feel like the whole concept of mate totally made sense.

Stiles pulls away, his free hand brushing his lips before he looks back at Boyd, a determined look on his face.

And there is their second kiss, which should not have taken place in the school's hallway if the whistles and catcalls are any indication--all Boyd knows is that Stiles doesn't take his tongue out of Boyd's mouth for a long moment, not even to flip the fingers at all of their classmates passing by.


	5. Day 5: Seasonal Stoyd / Musty-colored yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stoyd Week: Day 5 - Seasonal Stoyd

Stiles loves the Fall.

Even in Beacon Hills, with all of the shit that happens all year long, the beginning of Autumn just paints the whole town in shades of brown and red and Stiles just loves it.

The fact that burgundy and mustard are Gryffindor colors and he feels like he’s walking in a Gryffindor-painted town has absolutely nothing to do sith it.

And neither is the fact that Boyd looks absolutely delicious with a scarf around his neck.

As much as he didn’t appreciate Isaac wearing a scarf at all times, there is something about the fact that it makes Boyd looks—softer, somehow, that definitely stirs something deep inside of him.

So maybe Stiles starts stuffing Boyd’s locker with home-knitted scarves and fingerless gloves, just for the heck of it.

So maybe Stiles wants to see if he can taste the pumpkin spices on Boyd’s lips more often than not.

And maybe Boyd gets a particular kick out of flicking the fray end of the scarf under Stiles’ nose to tickle him.

And maybe he even beams at his boyfriend—his mate, really—when he bats his hands at the scarf like a kitten.

Yeah the irony is not lost on him.

And maybe Boyd asks his barista to add some of the Pumpkin spices in his latte to make sure that Stiles will still try to kiss it off of his lips.

And maybe, just maybe, his hold on Stiles is a little bit tighter while they take a hike in the forest, their feet making the dead leaves crinkle.

"Just to keep you warm," he says, but Stiles knows better. He keeps silent about it, which is a feat in and of itself, but he knows better.

Not that he would try to get away from Boyd’s warm embrace, ever.


	6. Day 7 - Do what you want Sunday / Marking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 : Do what you want Sunday
> 
> V-bird prompted : Boyd is concerned, as Jackson, Stiles Ex-Boyfriend is back. But Derek points out, if another wolf is bold enough to ACTUALLY make a move on his mate, he should teach that wolf a lesson. After butt-whooping Jackson, after seeing him roughly grab Stiles and force a kiss on him, Stiles shows how INCREDIBLY turned on he is on seeing Boyd tear Jackson a new one

Before he got turned, Boyd didn't really care for Jackson.

Cocky, king of campus--or wanting to be anyway--and throwing his money or his father in anybody's face to get away from his responsibilities and flaws.

Back then, as long as Jackson left him alone--and boy was not stupid enough to mess with someone of Boyd's ... stature--Boyd didn't give two cents about his whereabouts.

But ever since they both got turned, including Jackson's little ... scaly, let's say, phase, Boyd is a little bit more tense when it comes to the former kanima, present omega.

Because now Boyd is a mated Beta whose mate dated Jackson--if he can call "dating" a couple of thrysts in the summer before Jackson left for London.

Honestly, Boyd really doesn't want to look all territorial and shit, but that's the inherent problem with Omegas refusing to join the pack: it _is_ a territorial problem, anyway.

At first, Boyd has promised himself that he would let Derek deal with it, and Derek has: he has talked, for a long time--all the more remarkable, as Stiles points out-- with Jackson to explain pack dynamics, and territories, and "don't bother me or my betas or I will have to eviscerate you", and most importantly, with a pointed look at Boyd and Stiles, a whole lesson about mates and how not to mess with that particular, sensitive dynamic.

But does Jackson listen?

No, he doesn't, he only goes after what he wants because he is a spoiled brat.

The moment Jackson makes it known that he's here to stay, Boyd gets very physical with Stiles, scenting him every chance he gets and sneaking into his room to wear his clothes and permeate them with his scent.

But does that stop Jackson?

Of course not, and Boyd sees it coming a mile away.

That doesn't make him stay any calmer when he enters the bookstore where Stiles is working to pick him up at the end of his day (and go on their date, thank you very much) and sees Jackson leering at his boyfriend--his _mate_ \--and pawning his chest with his filthy paws.

See, objectively, Boyd can see the appeal. It would be a little hypocritical of him not to, for starters, but there is also the fact that Stiles really grew into his body in the past couple of years since Jackson left.

That doesn't mean that Boyd can stay still when the look in Jackson's eyes is so hungry that Stiles suddenly reeks of genuine fear.

Boyd doesn't even register that he shifted before his claws are buried in Jackson's shoulderpad and his fangs slur his speech when he growls in Jackson's ear that "No means no, Whitmore."

Jackson hisses and Boyd neatly throws his out of the store without even breaking the door or anything else--he doesn't want his boyfriend to lose his job, after all--and Boyd looks through the glass to make sure that Jackson leaves.

They can both hear him picking himself up, but only Boyd hears him mumbling.

"I can do better anyway."

Boyd smirks. "I'd like to see you try," he whispers, audible only to the wolf's ears, before turning to look at Stiles. "Are you okay?"

The words are not completely out of his mouth that Stiles is already grabbing his shirt to pull him forward, pressing his lips to Boyd's in an almost desperate fashion.

Boyd only breaks the kiss to leap on the other side of the counter, closer to Stiles, and their hands find their alloted place on their own--Stiles', buried in Boyd's backpocket and Boyd's on either side of Stiles' face.

Now that they are as close as can be, Stiles deepens the kiss, tilting his head to the side and pushing his moans into Boyd's mouth while his wicked tongue does wicked things to Boyd's brain.

Boyd eagerly returns the kiss, his thumbs rubbing soothing patterns on Stiles' cheekbones while he sucks on Stiles' tongue.

"What is that for?" he asks when Stiles pulls away to take a deep breath, and his mate's eyes are dark when he huffs a laugh before resting his forehead against Boyd's shoulder.

"For whoopping Jackson's ass," he replies, voice muffled by Boyd's shirt, "for making sure that I'm okay, for being you, Fuzzy bear."

The soft nickname makes Boyd warm all over, but the cute moment quickly melts away when Stiles' hands on his ass squeeze, bringing him even closer, close enough for Boyd to feel Stiles' erection against his own through their jeans.

"Um, Stiles--Honey?" he tries, trying to control the urge to give in and fuck Stiles over the counter, bite his neck and mark his pale skin with his hands and his lips and rubbing his scent in every way possible all over him and--yeah, counterproductive. "We're still in public?"

"Oh I know," Stiles says, looking at him with a wicked, wicked grin. "I want _our_ scent all over this joint."

Boyd's brain needs a moment to process the sentence--hey, all of his blood is going South--but when it does, he feels a low growl building up in his chest. "How do you propose to do that?"

"Let me blow you?" Stiles offers, already licking his lips, that asshole, "and then, I don't know, get creative, _sweetie_."

Boyd mutters that he'll get creative alright, but whatever curse he was building up for Stiles dies on his lips when Stiles gets to his knees on the floor, pulling Boyd's jeans with him before pressing his lips to Boyd's cock through his boxers.

Stiles doesn't waste too much time teasing Boyd though--adrenaline must have been running high to make him so horny that he bypasses this chance to tease Boyd into a frenzy--and he quickly pulls the boxers down, licking Boyd's cock from base to tip.

One of Boyd's hand mercifully finds the counter behind him for support, and the other simply cups the back of Stiles' head.

To make sure that it is real, that he's not dreaming, but there is no mistaking the sensation of Stiles' mouth around his cock, of his tongue pressing against the vein that runs on the underside of it, for its dream equivalent.

Stiles bobs his head up and down, always looking up at Boyd when he sucks on the head, moans or growls reverberating against his heated and sensitive skin.

Given Stiles' earlier statement, Boyd could just let go and come down his throat, but he's a gentleman, and he taps his thumb against Stiles' cheek to give him a warning--which only spurs Stiles to suck harder, pushing Boyd over the edge.

He has never come harder in his life, and he sees dark spots in front of his eyes for a couple of seconds, enough for Stiles to dress him back and stand up.

Boyd is back into his boyd by then, and his hand slides inside of Stiles' pants, his free arm wrapped around his tiny waist to keep him upright and against him. The front of Stiles' underwear is already damp, telling Boyd that it's not going to last very long.

As he strokes Stiles' cock, his mate pants in his ear, nonsensical soft words spilling out of his mouth, and Boyd can't take this anymore, Stiles' neck is right there, it would be all so easy to just bend his head and bite--

"Do it."

The two words are barely whispered, but there is no possibility to deny them, not with the way Stiles is deliberately tilting his head away, baring his neck for Boyd.

As Stiles freezes in his arms and comes all over his hand, Boyd bites down, sucking around the mark he is leaving on the soft, delicious skin.

"There, honey, I've got you," he says when Stiles' body turns limp after his orgasm, and he wipes his come-covered hand over his own shirt.

There/ Now just as he just marked Stiles, he is marked by him. And nothing makes more sense than that.


End file.
